


perpetual motion

by healingmirth



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inception_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/healingmirth/pseuds/healingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Eames wants from his lovers is a little feedback.  He gets it from Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	perpetual motion

**Author's Note:**

> as prompted: Arthur is the squirmiest fuck Eames has ever had.
> 
> Continuing evidence of the find-and-replace function in my head, where my eyes read "porn" and my brain goes "ooh, character study!"

The first girl Eames had ever gone off with had been as quiet as anyone he'd ever met. She been quite the shy and retiring type, and he'd fancied himself half in love with her, at thirteen. He'd been quietly convinced - loudly convinced, when his mates were around - that eventually she'd get over her nerves and be as overcome by lust as he was; that they'd fuck and she'd love it and he'd love it, and he would enter into the legendary ranks of blokes who could get a girl off.

Eventually, they'd done it, more than once even. And she'd said yes when he asked if she was okay, and she'd said yes when he asked if it was good, and she'd held his hand in the hall at school. But she'd been so quiet and so still throughout as to be unnerving, and it hadn't lasted above two weeks before the thought of taking her to bed again made him mildly ill with nerves.

After that, he kept to the loud ones, the ones who'd tease and pull his hair or call him a dirty boy after just a kiss or two. He preferred women who'd climb on top of him and tell him what they wanted in no uncertain terms. The first time a bloke offered to suck his prick, the whole affair had been so steeped in silence and insecurity that he hadn't so much as looked at another man for years.

So truth be told, the thing that most attracted him to Arthur was that Arthur couldn't seem to keep his fucking mouth shut when provoked. The fact that his body was a finely-honed weapon was a close second. It gave him hope that if he ever managed to unwrap his gift in finely-tailored wool, that Arthur would rise to whatever challenge Eames's body presented. It figured that the man who seemed genetically engineered to exceed expectations would do so again.

In coitus, Arthur wasn't measured. He was lost to touch and there were moments when it was all Eames could do to not just sit back on his heels and run a finger down Arthur's arm to see what reaction it would provoke this time. Arthur's responses defied prediction, and he rubbed their bodies together like he'd been drugged. They'd be bathed in sweat and sliding against each other, and when Eames would struggle to grip Arthur's hips or his shoulders, he'd leave bruises that would deepen for days. And still, Arthur would gasp and writhe like his movement was all that was keeping the world alight. If Eames held him down, he'd twitch and arch into each point where they connected. When Arthur rode him, it was as a ceaseless arrhythmic wave. And when they'd wrung their last orgasms from each other and Eames gave in to his curiosity, he'd trip light fingers across Arthur's chest until Arthur shivered himself into sleep.


End file.
